


Not Stars.

by Thousandsmiles



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6862612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thousandsmiles/pseuds/Thousandsmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki doesn't watch the stars anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy this little piece.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Thor or The Avengers.

Stars don’t really hold an attraction for Loki anymore. He’s seen them so much, spent so much of his youth tracking them across space learning their names and the names of their satellites, they are just a part of the background now, part of the canvas of Asgard. He has often whished upon them, dreamed of living elsewhere on one of the many worlds hoping, and dreaming that out there, there was place for him. Where he could be Loki and the world would love him for just being Loki. They were silly dreams, stupid dreams, dreams of a child, of a fool. So stars, stars don’t hold much of their former wonder for him. They were beautiful but they hold the subtle yet cloying pain of dreams being denied. He does not care for stars anymore. 

But, every now and then, when he walks the paths between the worlds, when he slips between the dimensions, slides between the layers of the universe and sees the things that no one sees, there is one particular place he likes to stop. It’s a layer, really, of existence.  And he often crouches down on the tips of Yiggrissil’s branches inside this layer and just, just watches. Watches the soft glows of golden light, spreading out as far as the eye can see, lightning up the blackness of the void. Watches the soft globes of life as they defy the dark. The very dark that seeks to consume them but cannot, for they, they are too bright, too real, too strong. No matter whom they are, prince or pauper, warrior or scholar, male or female or either or neither. They are all too strong for the dark to have. And he, he cannot tell which is which. And he knows that were he to look at himself from the distance he would look no different from all these brilliant glows of life, extending across the black, and shooting the void through with light, with life. And often, when he sits there, watching all the life in the universe, he thinks that maybe, maybe things aren’t so bad.


End file.
